“I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.” Colin’s tone was adamant.
“You cannot stop me.” At the risk of sounding boastful, she said, “I took care of myself and Anne in the castle. I saved us all by knocking out the guards and taking us through the secret tunnel. And therefore, I am going.”
“I want you to stay with Lady Anne. Why can’t you understand? This will be a dangerous journey.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, as if he was clenching his teeth.
She truly did not understand why he was so determined to leave her behind. Unless . . . “If I annoy you, why don’t you just be honest and say so.” She blurted this new thought before she could bite it back. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. Was he trying to get rid of her because she talked too much? Did she annoy him so much? Well, of course she did. She annoyed everyone when she talked too much, which was all the time.
“No.” Colin frowned.
Of course he wouldn’t admit it.
“No, you don’t annoy me. I just don’t want you to get killed.”
They walked on in silence. Margaretha quickened her pace so that she was walking slightly ahead of Anne and Colin, since it seemed she could no longer hold back the tears. She knew she probably sounded ridiculous. Perhaps he did simply want her to be safe. In her anguish and frustration, her family’s faces rose before her — her mother; her sisters, Kirstyn and Adela; her sister-in-law, Gisela, and her unborn baby; her brothers, Wolfgang and Steffan. And what would happen to her father and Valten when they came back to Hagenheim and found it under siege by that evil Claybrook? Would he manage to carry out his plan to kill them?
If she were honest, the tears also sprang from wondering if Colin found her company so tedious and annoying that he wanted to get rid of her. But she pushed that thought away.
Instead she considered poor Bezilo, so badly beaten and wounded. Pictured Claybrook’s guards, whom she herself had bashed in the head with her candlestick, lying dead on the grass after Bezilo finished them off with the sword. O God, what has happened to my life? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Will I be able to make it to Marienberg before something worse happens? Will you keep my family safe until I return? Will I ever be able to return to Hagenheim?
This was not the sort of prayer to give her the courage to defy Colin, and not the sort that would help her stop crying. She wiped the tears as discreetly as possible, hoping Colin and Anne wouldn’t know she was crying, since they were behind her and could only see her back.
O Father God, I know nothing is impossible for You. I am not putting my faith in anything but You — not the money in my purse, nor my status as the daughter of a duke, not in Colin’s ability to protect me, nor even in myself. My faith is in You. You are mighty to save, and I will not waver in my faith. I know You care for me, and nothing is too hard for You.
Her tears had all dried up by the end of that prayer. A sense of peace washed over her and she walked with a more confident step. Thank you, God.
Colin suspected Margaretha was crying by the way she kept lifting her hands to her face. He sighed. God, help me. I can’t allow her to be killed. Help me convince her to stay with Lady Anne. I just want to keep her safe. Why can’t she be reasonable? But Colin felt no peace at all after that prayer. Was God even listening to him? Surely God wouldn’t want him to take her with him.
“What does your home look like?” Anne asked, a flirtatious smile on her face. Uh-oh.
He looked askance at her. “It’s . . . gray.”
“Gray stone?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to England.” Anne smiled meaningfully.
Once again, he wondered why he had told her his lineage. Though he knew why. Pride, stupid pride. He was tired of being treated first like a poor mad indigent, then a mute stable boy. His pride had risen up and he’d declared himself both wealthy and powerful by the world’s standards. Now he would have to pay for that bit of folly.
“Is it a castle?”
“In a sense.”
“With towers?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it called?”
“Le Wyse House.”
“Not very grand.”
Colin shrugged. He was still trying to figure out an argument that would convince Margaretha to stay behind.
“What did you say your father’s title was?”
“Earl of Glynval.”
“That sounds very well. Is Glynval a grand place?”
“No. It is a small village.”
“Oh. But he has land holdings in other parts of England?”
“Yes.”
“Are you always so talkative?” Her hand was on her hip.
“Are you?”
“I’m not the one with a reputation for talking too much.” She angled her head in Margaretha’s direction and raised her eyebrows.